


Scars We Hold

by ArchangelUnmei



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Kink Meme, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-02
Updated: 2010-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-11 10:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchangelUnmei/pseuds/ArchangelUnmei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England can remember a time long ago, when Poland could stand toe to toe with Prussia and hold his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars We Hold

England scowled, storming his way out of the bathroom and ignoring France's laughter echoing behind him. Stupid frog. Couldn't he even be civil when they had no choice but to be in close quarters?

It was late afternoon at yet another world conference. A formal dinner with their bosses was set to begin in less than an hour, leaving most of the Nations no time to return to their hotels to change clothes. By consequence, they were forced to change in the bathrooms at the conference center or whatever unused rooms they could find. England had already walked in on Sweden and Finland making out instead of changing, and walking into an out of the way bathroom to the sight of a fully naked France had been far too much.

"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath, furry eyebrows drawn down in a deep scowl as he looked around for a relatively private room he could use, or at least one with a Nation he could trust to be civil while they changed. He paused to listen at the door to a small meeting room, and hearing nothing, he opened the door to step in.

He stopped immediately, frozen in the doorway and staring. It was possible, part of his brain snarked, that even walking in on France had been less shocking than this. At least you sort of expected France to be naked. It was like expecting Italy to want pasta.

The Nation on the other side of the small room had frozen at the sound of the door opening, and for long minutes England didn't even register _which_ Nation it was. He was too busy staring at the bare back, dress shirt held in white-knuckled hands, and the web of scars that spread across that back.

They all had scars, of course. England had personally seen the huge white gash left along America's spine by the Civil War, and he knew that if you brushed France's hair aside in just the right light you could see the marks the guillotine had left on his people. He knew that the others all had to have scars too, even if they hid them.

But he'd never expected anything like this.

He couldn't even tell if the scars were made by a blade or a burn, there were just too many of them, woven together across the slender back until they blended into one. The skin was knotted, puckered in places by the inflexible scars.

The sight was cut off as the other Nation finally moved, pulling the shirt across his back with an almost angry jerk. England blinked, trance broken, and his eyes rose to meet Poland's. Faintly, his mind threw up a series of memories, of how Poland always laughed and ducked away if anyone but Lithuania tried to pat him on the back. "Po-"

"Shut up," Poland glared at him, tossing his head to shake his hair loose of the shirt's stiff collar. England realized with a start that the smaller Nation was actually _angry_. That ridiculous accent of his had even thinned down to almost nothing. "It's not like I didn't have scars before, but-"

England's eyes widened a little and he felt like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. "Oh God-"

Poland raised his head, meeting England's eyes, his own narrowed in old resentment. England swallowed, remembering that like the rest of them, Poland was far older than he looked. But it was easy to forget, with Poland. Poland, with his ridiculous valley-girl accent and his obsession with pink ponies. Poland, who was actually older than England himself and had, once upon a time, stood about as tall as Germany was now before Russia and Prussia began tearing and ripping at his land.

"In 1939," Poland voice was approximately the same temperature as the ice gathering in England's throat. "Warsaw burned to the ground. My people," England remembered, then, that Poland was one of the few countries besides Israel who still called the Jews _his people_\- "My people were rounded up and herded to Auschwitz, to Chelmno. They killed us for helping our own people escape, and you," Poland pointed an accusing finger at England, who felt like he'd physically been stabbed. "You and France sat by and didn't lift a finger while Warsaw burned."

"Poland..." It took England two tries to swallow enough spit to be able to speak. "Poland, I..."

"Shut up!" Poland raised his chin, and for a moment England swore he was as tall as Rome again. "I'm used to fighting alone, Anglia, but you left my people to die." He shook his head, blond hair sliding briefly over his eyes, then turned away to grab his suit jacket.

"Poland!" England took a step forward as Poland moved toward him, but he just breezed past, shoulders tight.

"Like, you'd better change, England. It's kinda late."

"Feliks!" England tried a different tactic, reaching out to put a hand on Poland's shoulder. He felt the rough scars under his palm, protected only by the thin dress shirt, and realized he'd done exactly the wrong thing an instant before Poland slapped his hand away with surprising force.

"Like, _no_," Poland didn't turn to look at him, and England fancied he could hear the crackle of burning buildings and the whimpers of hidden children in his voice. "I totally don't have time to talk to you right now. Liet's waiting on me."

And then he was gone, footsteps receding down the hall and leaving England alone with guilt and memories and a stinging hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for two different prompts on the kink meme. One asked for a strong Poland, the other wanted Nations and their scars.
> 
> **Historical Notes:**
> 
> In May 1939, France and Poland signed the Franco-Polish Military Alliance, wherein France promised to attack Germany if any aggression was leveled at Poland. Though there wasn't a signed treaty, the UK made a similar promise to Poland. When Germany invaded Poland in September 1939, both France and the UK ignored their promises and made no move to protect Poland. And _then_ the _Soviets_ invaded Poland too, and France and the UK still made no move to help other than declaring war.
> 
> In the middle ages, Poland was one of the larger kingdoms around, particularly during 16th - 18th centuries as the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. After the Commonwealth was dissolved, Polish land was divided between Prussia, Russia and Austria. Later divisions weakened Poland further up until the aforementioned invasion in the 20th century.
> 
> During World War II, Poland was a major center of resistance against the Nazis. Even though the Poles were living in pretty dirt-poor conditions, many of them helped to hide Jewish Poles and were killed for it.
> 
> In other words, _Poland kicks ass_.


End file.
